


Heart-Shaped Leaves

by japastiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Because they aren't related, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Doctor/Patient, Fluff, Im surprised his ass didnt get fired, M/M, Maedhros breaks all the rules, Not kissing cousins for once, Nurse/Patient, Romance, and ready to fight, but fingon is fiesty as hell, definitely not love at first sight, especially if he gets to fight maemae for a space heater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4661406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japastiel/pseuds/japastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Thursday just before midnight when Fingon wakes up to a small, warm cup of coffee on the table beside his bed. It’s delicious and with the cream and sugar left for him to add to his taste, he makes it just the way he likes it. Before he can toss the cup in the trash, he rolls the still warm styrofoam cup between his palms, and he turns the cup over, in small neat writing he reads “Fight me?” and a phone number.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart-Shaped Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wintergraces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintergraces/gifts).



 

     The night nurse who comes in on Wednesday at dusk after Fingon’s first full day back in the hospital is irritatingly tall, gorgeous and has his long hair piled up in a neat knot at the back of his head. He looks over Fingon’s chart with calm grey eyes, scribbling things down with his left hand while looking at the machines. He clips all the papers back in order and asks, “How are you feeling? Need anything?” Fingon ignores him, pretends to have fallen asleep. He frowns when the door clicks closed and decides he doesn’t like the new night nurse at all. Not one bit.

 

     Fingon is having a bad day, it’s not even Monday, it’s Friday evening. Nothing is going to stop him from being feisty and he looks up through his mountain of blankets and mumbles “Ugh its so cold in here, doesn't anyone know where the thermostat is? Can anyone turn up the heat? No? No. Of _course_ not.” he rolls his eyes at the nurse’s non-response, “Well fine...” and asks the night nurse for a space heater or an electric blanket. The nurse says he can't, it's against hospital regulations and tries to hold back a smile. Fingon glares and growls up at the nurse “I will totally arm wrestle you for a space heater. Fight me!” The nurse, Fingon catches his name off his ID tag, _Maedhros_ , looks bemused and says that he can't, “You’re pretty sick, from the looks of it,” he waves the chart in his hand and hooks it back in place, “I wouldn't want to hurt you, but maybe ask again later.” He grins at Fingon as he leaves. _What a douchebag_.

 

     It’s a Wednesday after sunset when Maedhros comes back into Fingon’s room. Navy blue scrubs just like last time. His hair neatly tucked up into a topknot. Fingon is secretly jealous. But really, he’s more enamoured of the gorgeous auburn locks than anything. The way the waves look soft enough to easily finger comb through, even the stale fluorescent light glitters an array of shades ranging from copper to deep chestnut brown; disgusting. Fingon wants to scathingly ask _so, who does you hair?, there is absolutely no way that color is natural_ ; but given his freckled complexion and russet eyebrows Fingon knows it’s likely that he’s _au natural_. And isn’t that just unfair, but then again his life hasn’t really been fair at all. Just another reason to hate him. Fingon coughs, and makes it apparent that his chest is still a wreck and he reaches up through his mountain of blankets and coughs again, “Ready to fight me for that space heater?” and Maedhros says “Gosh you know I can’t, I have other patients to see and I know you'll totally kick my ass. Maybe next time when I’m about to leave work for the weekend. I’m gonna need time to recover from your thorough beating.” he smiles and closes the door behind him.

 

     It’s Thursday just before midnight when Fingon wakes up to a small, warm cup of coffee on the table beside his bed. It’s delicious and with the cream and sugar left for him to add to his taste, he makes it just the way he likes it. Before he can toss the cup in the trash, he rolls the still warm styrofoam cup between his palms, and he turns the cup over, in small neat writing he reads “Fight me?” and a phone number.

 

     He grabs his cell phone from the side table and dials the number. Voicemail.  “...hello you've reached the inbox of Maedhros…” and he jams his finger on the end button, not knowing what he could possibly record that would seem on the normal side of sane. He muses out loud to himself in the unnatural lamplight “... _Maedhros_...what kind of name is that?” He knows he likes the way it rolls off his tongue, though.

 

     Maedhros crept around the corner into the dim room, “It’s Sindarin. But I'm guessing you already knew that,” he smiles weakly, “I came back, I left that when- I was just...I wasn’t sure you liked coffee? ”

 

“ _Maedhros_ , hmm?" Fingon slowly enunciates his name, testing the way the syllables slip off his tongue for the second time, "I love coffee. So, you’ve come back to, what? Finally fight me? And probably try and abscond with my coffee, too.”

 

     Maedhros looks down at his feet, “Neither actually. I was...um- I was coming to give you this,” He squeezes the edges of a small butcher paper wrapped bundle, “Since you’re always so cold.” Maedhros fiddles awkwardly with the crinkled brown paper, “I- one of my brothers, he has an etsy shop online and he makes these. And I wasn’t sure if you are allergic to wool or anything, so its hypoallergenic synthetic fibers, but still really, really warm and- _oh_ all natural dyes, of course. I-um- I hope you like it.” and hands it over.

 

Fingon tears into it quickly, revealing a thick, gorgeously crafted, deep blue knitted scarf. ‘Oh, oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous. Thank you. How much-”

 

“No-no, its a gift.” Maedhros smiles, raising his hand in protest.

 

“I couldn’t.”

 

“Sure you can.”

 

Fingon returns his grin, “Thanks. The color, it’s gorgeous.” he said as he wraps it around his neck.

 

“I-um,” Maedhros blushes, “I figured it would match your eyes.”

 

Fingon chuckles. “Yeah my mom always used to say the same thing when she would buy me clothes as a kid. My entire fifth grade wardrobe was blue.”

 

“She was right. It suits you.”

 

“It became my favourite color because of her, I guess.”

 

“Is she-”

 

“Yeah, she passed away eight years ago. Same shit that tried to get me. Nearly killed my dad when we lost her.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. Eight years is a long time to grieve and she'd kick my ass if she thought I'd spent years being sad over her.” Fingon sinks his thin fingers into the yarn and thanks Maedhros again with a shy smile on his lips as Maedhros starts backing out the door slowly, tripping over his own feet explaining that his shift is over but he’ll be back tomorrow. Fingon chuckles adding, “I hope so, seeing as how you’re my nurse.” Maedhros goes still and blurts, “ _Your’s_?” and pauses, letting his wide quicksilver eyes linger on Fingon’s laughing face, “Oh! Your _nurse_ , of course. right. See you tomorrow evening.” Fingon laughs and realizes as the door shuts that he doesn’t hate the night nurse- _Maedhros_  one bit, not at all.

 

     It’s a Saturday morning, his day off, when Maedhros comes in, looking alien in his street clothes, his long hair loose around his shoulders, with a carafe of potent coffee and overpriced coffeehouse snacks including a red velvet cake pop, covered in pastel pink frosting and bright sprinkles. As it turns out, it's Fingon’s favourite. Maedhros can't help but think to himself, _Of course it is, it’s tiny, ridiculous and adorable, just like you._ What Maedhros doesn’t know is that Fingon would have given up the coffee, the snacks, even the cake pop for a chance to thread his fingers in his loose auburn waves and an extra hour of their chatty banter. That night Fingon dreams of freckled laughing lips lingering a bit too close to his skin, kind quicksilver eyes and achingly soft auburn waves tangled around his fingers.

 

     Just over a week later on a Monday afternoon, Maedhros sits at Fingon’s bedside, casually propping his long legs on the bed as they both argue over the Sunday crossword. They both relish the almost-contact between three layers of fabric when Fingon shifts his toes into Maedhros' thick calf muscle. Breaking their eye contact, Maedhros rolls out of his chair to pull the blinds up and open the curtains; _some sunlight will do us both a world of good._ When he sits back down and dares to look back at Fingon, his heart stutters and skips when he sees just how bright the reflected sunlight makes Fingon’s too-blue eyes. Maedhros gets a glimpse of the happiness Fingon must have exuded before the radiation treatments, before his hair was cropped short and barely able to grow back in. Before he was angry and tired of fighting to stay alive. Fingon tells him he used to let his sister braid his hair all the way down his back and Maedhros can’t help but think _that must have been a sight to see_ , because even without his hair long and his skin recovering from a waxy sallow hue he still manages to be breathtaking. Fingon is getting better and they start talking about places they both want to go. Fingon starts small and tells him he wants to eat lunch by the koi pond at the back of the hospital where the long term patients and family members go for walks.

 

     The next day, Tuesday evening, Maedhros returns in his scrubs, a pale lilac colour this time, a girl with more dark curls piled atop her head than Maedhros has ever seen in his life turns around and gives him the same wide contagious smile as Fingon’s. They could be twins, but it turns out she’s four and a half years younger and her name is Irisse. She goes by Aredhel, the nickname her mother gave her. She smiles at Maedhros and promises to bring shoes for Fingon to walk around the pond in the next day, if he’s up for it, of course. Aredhel pulls Maedhros into a hug that Wednesday at dusk, after leaving Fingon his old running shoes, she says she hasn't seen her brother smile like that since before their mother died and while she's still worried, cancer can always come back, and he’s not out of the woods or the hospital, she's glad they met.

 

     On Thursday, Maedhros comes in three hours before his shift and finds Fingon elated. He’s being released Friday morning if his chest x-ray comes back clean, but the infection is gone and he can probably go home. Maedhros grins all the way out the back double doors as they finally make it around the small garden to the koi pond. The gentle breeze ruffles Maedhros’ loose hair and Fingon asks if he can braid it for him and admits that he sorely misses having long hair. Fingon sits on the first creaky park bench he sees and shoves Maedhros to the ground and finger combs the tangles out. The reality of his auburn waves is better than any of his fantasies, impossibly soft and silkier than it looked. Fingon tells him about how he had planned to go see the world after college. But he hadn’t made it through his third year before getting sick. He tells Maedhros that it was his mother’s mother who taught him how to braid. Before the chemo, before the radiation and before the cancer, he had long dark curls, almost as much hair as his sister, but always braided back. He pulls out his phone and shows Maedhros a photo from four years ago. Fingon smiling, braids and gold beads and the brightest smile Maedhros has ever seen, his arms around a taller boy and Aredhel.

 

“His name is Turgon, my younger brother.”

 

“He’s handsome.”

 

Fingon leans down, his chin nearly on Maedhros’ shoulder, “But…”

 

Maedhros turns not expecting Fingon to be right there and before he can pull away, Fingon presses their lips together.

 

When Maedhros pulls back, he smiles shyly and finishes, “but, he’s not as handsome as his older brother. Not even close.”

 

Fingon grins and sits up, “Stop moving your head, I’ll never finish if you don’t sit still.”

 

They talk of visiting China, and Scotland and seeing the sunset at the Grand Canyon and Maedhros can't stop touching his freshly braided hair.

 

* * *

 

     It’s a Tuesday, four weeks and five days later, early morning, when Maedhros walks into Fingon’s room. Reads his new chart in his new room, two floors up. He was readmitted three days ago and this time to the oncology ward. Maedhros’ heart breaks when he sees the sweet smile cross Fingon’s lips even though his breathing is raspy and not because he’s recovering from pneumonia. The cancer is back and Maedhros _knows_ he can beat it. He’s so strong, even in his sleep he looks healthier than he did last month. He’d like to think that love can do that to someone but his quiet smile never reaches his eyes. He replaces the chart at the foot of his bed and brushes his fingers over Fingon’s feet, stirring him awake.

 

“Hey, love, do you need anything?”

 

“Well, I needed sleep,” he yawns and slurs, still not completely awake “but you went and ruined that.” he smiles and stretches stiffly. “but since I’m up, how about some of that delicious coffee from Starbucks you know I love, my love.”

 

“Sure, anything else?” Maedhros trails his fingers on the starchy hospital sheets, as he walks to the head of Fingon’s bed.

 

“Well,’ Fingon looks around, “I wish I could get you in bed with me,” he cards his thin fingers up Maedhros’s inner thigh, “But since it’s _against the rules_ ,“ he mimics the nasal voice of the daytime nurse, “I’ll settle for just coffee. Especially if I need to be awake for whatever godawful treatment they have me doing today.”

 

Maedhros smiles,  “Yeah sure. Starbucks it is. And I’ll be back before you know it. Rest till then.”

 

“That's the plan.” Fingon yawns and curls back into his pile of pillows.

 

“Love you.” Maedhros whispers while tucking and errant strand of too-short hair behind Fingon’s ear.

 

“Love you too.” Fingon rasps sleepily.

 

“C’mere you” Maedhros pushes the top pillow away from Fingon’s face and leans to press a quick kiss on his lips.

 

The morning nurse walks through the door in time to see Maedhros pull back quickly and looks away with sad eyes.

 

     Maedhros walks the block and a half to the closest Starbucks, the chilly wind biting bitterly at his nose and ears the whole way. As soon as he’s inside he rubs his hands together excitedly for the coffee, letting the delicious warmth sink into his chilled fingers and places their usual order. His Americano with an extra shot and room for cream and Fingon’s disgustingly sweet “coffee”. He rattles off the order for the venti caramel frapp with extra whip and chocolate sprinkles that he memorized weeks ago, then two red velvet cake pops, and a toasted stuffed spinach pretzel and a turkey panini. He wants to make sure Fingon eats. He grins to himself, glad that he already knows Fingon’s order perfectly. Taking Fingon out the day he had been released from the hospital, meeting Aredhel for coffee and getting to watch Fingon place his own order with glee had cemented it to the last detail in Maedhros’ memory. The first days of autumn, filled with freedom and spice had been the best, most exhilarating of his entire life.

 

     It’s a chill Tuesday in late October, not even ten a.m., when Maedhros climbs the final steps to the sixth floor and drops their order from Starbucks on the floor outside Fingon’s hospital room when he sees the doctor calling the time of death. The sad-eyed nurse rushes over from the station to pull Maedhros back from running into the room. Tears already spilling down his distraught face.

 

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. He had a stroke. They did all they could, you know they did.”

 

“NO- it’s not him -NO- where is he -NO- he was getting _better_. I have his- _shit_ \- his coffee. His-no...” Maedhros sobs and falls to his knees, his voice breaks as he chants that it's impossible that Fingon _can’t be gone_ , his hands pounding the floor, dragging through pools of spilled sugarspun coffee. Maedhros cries that he still has his shoes in his locker and he has to return them otherwise Aredhel will be upset and that _he’s not gone, can’t be- he was just there-_. His brain goes blank as he sinks his dripping fingers as hard as he can into the soothing, plump nurse. He tries not to bruise her or rip her top, but he’s shaking and needs to ground himself, to feel something, to feel _anything_. Even the pain throbbing in the tips of his fingers is nothing compared to the vacuum that's taken over the place where his heart had been. Imploded, gone supernova and now it’s just a black hole sucking in everything that comes near.

 

     She wraps her arms around his shivering, shaking shoulders as he cries into her scrubs. “Shhh, let it out. I’m so sorry hon. I’m so, so sorry.” she whispers as she rocks him on the hospital floor, neither caring that coffee is soaking into their pants.

 

     When he leaves the hospital that Tuesday afternoon, he turns in his resignation. Tells his boss he can’t come back. The smell of coffee turns his stomach and fluorescent lights make his throat ache with unshed tears for months; he has to get away. He takes his savings and trades it for a plane ticket. If he can’t have Fingon by his side, he can at least live their dreams. When he looks up at the cloudless Chinese sky, breathes in the crisp Scottish air and takes pictures of the river cutting through the Grand Canyon he knows Fingon would have loved every day, and every minute.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> title is inspired by the lilac flower, symbolizing the harbinger of spring, and the first fleeting emotions of young innocent love.


End file.
